


such a kiss

by Metis_Ink



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, [elvis jamming in the bg]
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 19:36:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4678790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metis_Ink/pseuds/Metis_Ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“…Can’t you do that anywhere else?” Daichi asks, trying to focus on the music sheets in front of him.</p><p>“Sorry, you took the best seat in the house,” Kuroo says, nodding to the window, where the sunset swept over Daichi from above the rooftops. He smirks. “You’ll be happy to know that you’re a lot more photogenic than that mini-fridge I was planning on putting in that spot before you threatened to feed me your rosin.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	such a kiss

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be an excuse to write kuroo agonizing over daichi in a suit but then it got domestic

Daichi gets worried, sometimes, that Kuroo may have been lying when he said he didn’t mind perpetual cello playing in their dorm room. Given, Kuroo should have said something at the beginning of the year, not after months of Daichi slowly building a small home in his little practice space by the window, but it’s a feeling that’s been slowly gnawing at him since day one.

It doesn’t bother him that Kuroo takes pictures of him playing, that he’s gotten used to; Kuroo’s a film major. He’s seen Kuroo study and even fall asleep to his music sometimes, just as much as he’s been groveled at for practicing before six. It’s become a domestic set for them, Daichi at the window and Kuroo flipping through pictures on his bed, but lately, it’s as if something about Kuroo dies a little when he pulls the first note.

It’s making him uncomfortable, and messing him up. Daichi can feel his muscles tensing as he carries out the song and he’s not sure if Kuroo notices, but this is the worst rhythm he’s even dared to play. He’s not sure how far Kuroo is into music in his cinema studies but it doesn’t take a professional to notice how _bad_ this is making him play.

“What are you doing,” Daichi says, rather stiffly. Kuroo, blinking, peers up from the top of his camera.

“Come on, Sawamura, you act as if this isn’t normal,” Kuroo scoffs, but returns to staring at the screen of his camera. Daichi hopes it captures the sting of his glare.

Frustrated, Daichi lowers his bow. “Usually you take a picture or two, not stare at the camera like you’re waiting for it to do backflips for you. I know it’s pointed at me.”

Had Daichi blinked, he would have missed the slight tense in Kuroo’s face. Glancing up from the screen, he catches Daichi’s gaze for a fraction of a second. “I’m trying to examine the lighting. You have a lot of good spots.”

“…Can’t you do that anywhere else?” Daichi asks, trying to focus on the music sheets in front of him.

“Sorry, you took the best seat in the house,” Kuroo says, nodding to the window, where the sunset swept over Daichi from above the rooftops. He smirks. “You’ll be happy to know that you’re a lot more photogenic than that mini-fridge I was planning on putting in that spot before you threatened to feed me your rosin.”

Daichi manages a flat look and attempts another chord, but it cracks. His frustration rises. “Well, if you like sitting there and listening to this shitty music,” he replies.

“I _adore_ sitting here and listening to your shitty music,” Kuroo tells him brightly, before his expression drops at the realization that Daichi is serious. “Not that it’s bad.” Daichi gives him a flat look. “I’m serious, you’re amazing. I mean the music, fuck, the music is amazing.”

“Kuroo, I’ve missed like, ten notes. You’re not helping me here,” Daichi tells him, hoping Kuroo finally gets the message, and luckily, he does, quite harshly.

“Oh,” Kuroo says, and now his expression is tight. It’s like Daichi told him David Fincher died. “Ah, yeah, sorry. Yeah. Dammit.” He bites his lip. “Can I get a picture anyway?”

“Didn’t you already take some?” Daichi asks, trying to distract himself even more from Kuroo’s behavior by tuning his cello. It doesn’t last long, not because it’s tuned, but he’s getting too worried. “You have plenty of pictures of this exact setting, you know,” he tells his roommate, waving to the sunset, the cluttered music space, his slept-in sweats. “If that’s what you meant by normal.”

Kuroo opens his mouth to say something, but for once in their entire time living together, thinks better and shuts up. Daichi finally lets his genuine concern show before he hears the sharp _click_ of Kuroo’s camera go off, startling him.

“You look better candid,” Kuroo comments while examining the photo. “That’s a terrible face. Did I remind you to cross off ‘modeling’ in your future career choices?”

Daichi sighs and sets aside the instrument to walk over and examine just what Kuroo took. He pushes Kuroo’s shoulder over to see the screen, noting the slight lean away from his touch. Shooting a look at Kuroo’s averted eyes, he pulls over the camera.

He blinks. Daichi’s seen thousands of Kuroo’s pictures, let alone his videos, and it’s no doubt stunning, but is that really the face he made? It’s hard not to blush at that, the way Kuroo managed to take it as if he were placed in the climax of a romantic drama, from the soft golden touch of sunlight to Daichi’s careful gaze.

In an instant, he realizes how much of Kuroo’s space he’s taking up, and looks up to see the tense expression of his roommate looking over at him. “…I’d thought you’d gotten tired of this,” Daichi says as casually as possible.

“Hey, I get attached to my subjects. Remember that cat I took pictures of for two months before it got adopted by that old lesbian couple?” Kuroo laughs, but it’s a little more offhanded than usual. “So unless you’re secretly an orphan and prowling near cute couples in the early mornings, you think I could let you go?”

Daichi wonders if Kuroo could point that camera at himself for once so he could see his own expression. He doesn’t seem to get why Daichi is too busy fighting off the blood rushing to his face to reply. So Kuroo gets cheeky, and over all Daichi’s fears, it makes it all a lot worse.

“Flattered, Sawamura?” Kuroo chides, with that quirk of his eyebrow and curl of his lip. He puts down his camera to push back his hair, and show off the glow of the sunset outlining his figure. Was this how Daichi looked every evening? Holy shit. “Or regretting taking up that window space?”

Daichi regrets absolutely nothing about taking up the window space. That corner has seen him before every audition, concert, and recital of his, with his one-man audience. Kuroo’s never missed a beat on giving Daichi a quip about every small performance, until recently, that is. It’s a pain to drag it out of him now, over all his prior rebuttals. Daichi would rather give up first seat than admit that to Kuroo.

“Absolutely not,” Daichi replies with challenge, but Kuroo barely falters. It’s like he’s taking every chance to distract Daichi, but this time it’s conscious. Daichi is used to conscious bullshit from Kuroo. “Except you seem a lot keener on staring at your camera than enjoying my music like you used to.”

“What camera?” Kuroo slips up, and Daichi raises an eyebrow. “I mean, staring? At this thing?” He pushes the camera aside, far aside, until it’s on his far out of reach.

“Come on, you do it all the time, watching…” The words fade off his tongue, as his voice failed and realization dawned, over the way he looked through that camera, the constant lack of eye contact, Kuroo’s millions of pictures of the same damn scene, every week to every day, down to the way he had just seen _Kuroo_ looking at that scene was…

When he comes to his senses, Kuroo is staring at him. His hands are twitching for some disappeared camera, as if he’s looking for a way to capture this expression, this time, and it’s all completely subconscious. Kuroo has no idea about the way he’s looking at Daichi.

Daichi feels a wave of emotions crash over him. He should be all of them, offended that Kuroo is scared of him, angry that he never said anything, guilty that he never noticed, excited about…

“Do you mind?” Daichi says on instinct.

“About what?” Kuroo replies without even thinking, right before Daichi pushes him down and kisses him.

This is how Kuroo must have imagined it, Daichi thinks, while taking all of those romantic-esque pictures of Daichi playing next to the sunset. Past those overly cheesy scenes where you can _feel_ the love interest falling for their dear protagonist, or maybe over all those scenes in every lighting-small detail, to the moment where it’s all down to that shock of their mouths pressed up against one another, Kuroo’s nose pressed into Daichi’s cheek and hard drag of his teeth on Daichi’s lip that feels _fantastic._

He hopes Kuroo gets to know that Daichi’s always played best when he watches Kuroo nod off to the music, through the way his hands travel around Kuroo’s neck. He loves knowing that it’s the way he feels, poured out into every note, which gives Kuroo that vulnerable comfort of his presence. Daichi hopes he knows that every time he presses a kiss to Kuroo’s face, that no, he didn’t know how much falling in love with Kuroo would give him so much harmony in playing. How _good_ it felt. But maybe he can show Kuroo, like this. _Don’t be nervous about loving me._

They break away, to catch their breath and see each other’s face. Daichi’s never felt so heated, upon realizing the hover of Kuroo’s fingertips over his waist. But then he looks at Kuroo’s face, bewildered and ecstatic, and all of that hesitation disappears.

“You have a crush on me,” Kuroo snickers childishly, endearingly, to hide his embarrassment.

“Um.” Daichi swallows, unconsciously smoothing out Kuroo’s relentless cowlick to see his playful eyes. “Yeah. Uh, something like that.”

“Then I swear to god, you don’t have to ask permission to kiss me. In fact, please keep doing it, you’re amazing, holy shit, and I’m not even talking about the music this time. And if we’re making confessions right now, I wasn’t talking about it then, either. You’re so damn amazing, Sawamura, so just—”

“Can you please not use my last name when I’m trying to make out with you?” Daichi interrupts, just to stop himself from burying his face into Kuroo’s chest in embarrassment.

Kuroo’s eyes light up. “Oh my god, Daichi.” And then he throws his arms around Daichi’s waist and kisses him again. Daichi wonders if he’s taking these romantic fantasies too seriously, because Kuroo’s pulling every cliché in the book, and it’s working even better than in the movies.

**Author's Note:**

> stephy i want you to know this is your fault


End file.
